


The Consequences of Falling

by sadhockeytrashbaby (allofthefandoms)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:05:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/sadhockeytrashbaby
Summary: Tomas isn’t Bergy, bubbly and outgoing where Patrice was reserved and calm, but Joe wants to submit all the same, to let his chatter be white noise while his hand is in his hair as Joe presses against his shins.But Joe doesn’t do that anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frausorge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/gifts).
  * Inspired by [not where, but in whose hands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8090893) by [frausorge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/pseuds/frausorge). 



> Okay so I got an amazing fic for the Hockey Kamikaze Remix challenge??? I've always wanted to take the plunge into Sharks fic, frausorge, so thank you for the lovely push.
> 
> And while this is just an alternate POV of her amazing fic (which I surely don't do justice to) so you don't 100% NEED the info in her fic, this story is definitely enhanced by reading hers.
> 
> (Also yes I know there are accents in Tomas Hertl's name but lool so much of the first draft was on my phone)

Joe doesn’t do this anymore.

Patrice is never far from his mind these days.  It had been effortless to sink to his knees in the face of his steady calm, his unruffled demeanor keeping Joe from feeling even the slightest embarrassment of needing to submit as captain.  It made the burden of the letter on his chest feel manageable rather than choking, knowing that he could fall to his knees even in the middle of the locker room and no one would bat an eye or judge him for it.

And then came the trade and it felt like the Bruins had ripped his skin off.  It left him raw and trembling, and he could only field so many concerned texts from Patrice before he just let his phone die and refused to charge it.  He drifted, unmoored and anxious, until coach called him into the office and forced him under before giving him the C.

(He hears that Patrice and Marchand have a thing now, and even the wistful pang he feels every time he thinks about it doesn’t stop him from wanting them both to be happy.)

Tomas isn’t Bergy, bubbly and outgoing where Patrice was reserved and calm, but Joe wants to submit all the same, to let his chatter be white noise while his hand is in his hair as Joe presses against his shins.

But Joe doesn’t do that anymore.

~ ~ ~

The Olympics are a special form of hell.

Tomas makes no secret of his desire, but the way he pulls away, respects Joe’s boundaries even though he thinks they are unnecessary, makes something expand under his chest where it throbs uncomfortably every time Tomas touches him.

And the kiss…

Fuck.

He claims exhaustion is the reason he wants to go home, and it isn’t really a lie, but the first thing he does when he slips into his own bed is shove the sheets down so he can grab his dick.  The first stroke is too dry, but when he gets some lube on his hand it’s perfect.  He closes his eyes with a little whine, and it’s Tomas floating above him, a playful little grin on his face.

“Gonna be good for me?” the phantom says, eyes dancing.  Joe feels his breath catch, can almost feel the way Tomas’ lighter frame would press against his thighs, pinning him as surely as if it was Tomas who had 20 pounds on Joe and not the other way around.  Joe can feel his breath catch and his mind go hazy, a drop just a hairs breath away even though Joe knows he’ll never let himself fall alone.

“Gonna hold still for me?  Come when I tell you to?”

“Yes, Tomas, God yes please…”  Joe’s voice is deafening and it shatters the illusion even as Joe comes the hardest he has in a very long time, back bowing as he streaks his chest and stomach.

Despite his exhaustion, it takes him a long time to settle down into sleep.

                                                                                ~ ~ ~

Tomas’ tiny swim suit is a special sort of torture.  He glistens, cheeks pink as he laughs, playing around with the guys in the pool.  Joe mingles, ever the host and captian, but he rarely finds himself straying too far from the pool.  Pevs gives him a knowing look.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Joe protests when he catches Pev’s gaze, glancing fervently around to make sure he hasn’t been overheard.  “I’ve turned him down!”

“Why?  He’s super into you.”

“He’s a rookie!”

“He’s also an adult capable of making his own choices.  Don’t let fear keep you from something you both want.”  Joe sighs, looking over to Tomas only to see Tommy with an arm under his shoulder as he limps inside to a chair.  Darting through the kitchen, Joe rushes to his side, a spike of anxiety fueled as much by his submission as his concern as Tomas’ captain.

"Tomáš!" he says, swallowing the rest of his nerves.

"It's fine! I'm fine," Tomas says with a smile that Joe isn’t convinced by. "Just need to sit a little.  It's better already."

"Let me get you an ice pack," Joe says, desperate for something, anything, to do to help ease the pinched expression on Tomas’ face.  He keeps checking in, glad as Tomas relaxes as he rests.  The painkillers someone got him must also be helping, and it isn’t long before Tomas is completely relaxed again, nursing a beer he isn’t supposed to have.  The more Joe watches, the more his will melts away.  Pevs is right.  He should trust Tomas more, trust himself.  He wants this, needs to feel taken care of again, that it’s okay to submit, to build a home here.

Because that’s what this is really about, he realizes in a moment of clarity.  Finding a dom, trusting a dom, it’s about letting himself build something permanent, something that he wants to last.  He’s been so afraid to let himself have that after the trauma of losing it Boston when he felt like his place was so secure.  Bu Tomas is smiling up at him, vulnerable and gentle and sure, and it’s effortless for Joe to slide to his knees.

"Please.  Tomas, please."

                                                                                ~ ~ ~

Joe shakes slightly when he hands Tomas his clothes, but then he’s kneeling and Tomas is kissing him so sweetly that everything melts away except for the point of contact, lips on lips, Tomas’ hands cupping Joe’s chin, the press of a thigh pressed snug against his belly.  He’s flying by the time Tomas pulls away, and there is a little part of him that takes a moment for smug pride when he sees the glassy look on his face.

 "You are being so good," he says and Joe can’t stifle a low whine, every fantasy he’s had playing rapid fire through his mind. "Should I let you have my cock?"

“Yeah,” he begs, mouth watering.  “Please.”

It’s as amazing as Joe could have possibly dreamed, Tomas’ cock heavy and thick on his tongue.  The precome already beading is sweet and tangy, and Joe suckles as if it’s the finest sustenance.  But eventually Joe loses his breath, too out of practice to maintain his rhythm for long.  When he pulls away, he hears a shocked whine from above him, and feels Tomas’ come splatter on his chest like a burning, beautiful brand.

Tomas says something and Joe nods, but it’s still a surprise when Joe is tugged into Tomas’ lap.  He squirms as Tomas just runs his hands over him, touches exploratory and light.  Even when they ghost over an old bruise, sending a tingle through him so sharp and good Joe whines, Tomas does nothing.  But then he feels a hand over his eyes, and as he closes them and lets the heat from Tomas’ hand wash over his face, something settles inside him.  He drifts, awash with a feeling he can only describe as home, and when Tomas finally touches him, he almost sobs with relief.  His orgasm feels more like the soft cresting of a wave than a shattering release when it finally comes.

They lie curled up, talking softly, but the sense of haze and calm doesn’t fade.  For the first time, the sting of Boston is a memory, and San Jose feels like home.  He turns his face towards Tomas with a tender smile on his face, and basks in his light.

 

 

 


End file.
